#23 - Night on the Island - Pablo Neruda

Night on the Island 

Pablo Neruda

All night I have slept with you

next to the sea, on the island.

Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep,

between fire and water. Perhaps very late

our dreams joined

at the top or at the bottom,

Up above like branches moved by a common wind,

down below like red roots that touch.

 

Perhaps your dream

drifted from mine

and through the dark sea

was seeking me

as before,

when you did not yet exist,

when without sighting you

I sailed by your side,

and your eyes sought

what now--

bread, wine, love, and anger--

I heap upon you

because you are the cup

that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

 

I have slept with you

all night long while

the dark earth spins

with the living and the dead,

and on waking suddenly

in the midst of the shadow

my arm encircled your waist.

 

Neither night nor sleep

could separate us.

 

I have slept with you

and on waking, your mouth,

come from your dream,

gave me the taste of earth,

of sea water, of seaweed,

of the depths of your life,

and I received your kiss

moistened by the dawn

as if it came to me

from the sea that surrounds us.

#22 I Don't Miss It - Tracy K. Smith

I Don't Miss It

Tracy K. Smith

But sometimes I forget where I am,

Imagine myself inside that life again.

 

Recalcitrant mornings. Sun perhaps,

Or more likely colorless light

 

Filtering its way through shapeless cloud.

 

And when I begin to believe I haven’t left,

The rest comes back. Our couch. My smoke

 

Climbing the walls while the hours fall.

Straining against the noise of traffic, music,

 

Anything alive, to catch your key in the door.

And that scamper of feeling in my chest,

 

As if the day, the night, wherever it is

I am by then, has been only a whir

 

Of something other than waiting.

 

We hear so much about what love feels like.

Right now, today, with the rain outside,

 

And leaves that want as much as I do to believe

In May, in seasons that come when called,

 

It’s impossible not to want

To walk into the next room and let you

 

Run your hands down the sides of my legs,

Knowing perfectly well what they know.

#21 Oh Yes - Charles Bukowski

Oh Yes
Charles Bukowski

there are worse things than 
being alone 
but it often takes decades 
to realize this 
and most often 
when you do 
it's too late 
and there's nothing worse 
than 
too late.

#20 The Hurt - Nayyirah Waheed

The Hurt
Nayyirah Waheed

you
not wanting me
was
the beginning of me
wanting myself
thank you

#19 And The Days Are Not Long Enough - Ezra Pound

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
      Not shaking the grass. 

#18 I Will Keep You, Forever, In This Poem - Allie Frazier

It's been a year since I lost my best friend and I've finally realized now that I will never get him back. It's time to fully move on - sometimes, things don't come full circle. Sometimes, God's timeline for your life is vastly different than your own. Do you know that I completely stopped writing poetry while I was with him? He cocooned me somehow. 

So in this spirit, I present to you the only poem I ever wrote about him:

I Will Keep You, Forever, In This Poem

I promised I wouldn’t write a poem about

you 

but 

I got drunk and waded through your old voicemails.

I wasn’t strong enough to 

face them 

on my own. With whiskey-hot veins, I 

listen to your bullshit.

You coo to me from the past.

Your voice is soft and vulnerable, filled with 

tenderness. 

I want to crawl through the earpiece and hit you.

Call you on your bluffs

your dishonesty

these false futures

and lies of love

scream and yell and

interrupt you:

“Here is proof that you loved me, spoken from

the same lips that pressed and fluttered, 

moth-like,

against my skin at night.”

If I could, I would leave a message for my future self. 

No,  

not a message.

A warning -

“Prepare yourself, girl.

He’s about to destroy you,

Wake up in the middle of the night to realize

he doesn’t love you, he's no longer
drawn to you.

Move to kiss the back of your neck but stops.

He will cocoon you.

He will swaddle you in love and then flee you.

He will leave your heart tangled around something that 

never existed -

Just a smashed mosquito with your own blood in it.
Prepare.”

But now, all I do is listen. 

I delete them one by one.

They are crumpled love letters in a wastebasket 

that you couldn’t quite get right - 

Just practice for the

next one.

#17 - from "Book of Hours" I, 59 - Rainer Maria Rilke

A century ago, Rilke went on a spiritual journey to Russia and then wrote a book of love poems to God. This poem is really speaking to me right now - 

"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final."

from "Book of Hours" section  I, 59

Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.